


Nautical Disater

by WolverMean (feral_albertan_female)



Series: Feral and Forever [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Sabretooth - Fandom, Victor Creed - Fandom, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canada, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fear and Forever, Graphic Sex, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Mates, Mating Bond, Not Canon Compliant, Series, Violence, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feral_albertan_female/pseuds/WolverMean
Summary: Victor Creed and Evra Kitney are on a boat headed towards Europe and the war. Tempers flare and attitudes clash as they find themselves battling to keep their mating bond alive.
Relationships: Victor Creed/Evra Kitney, Victor Creed/OFC
Series: Feral and Forever [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1029591
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a line at vicficfanficiton@gmail.com!

I had this dream where I relished the fray

And the screamin' filled my head all day

- _Nautical Disaster_ by The Tragically Hip

**Evra**

The animal attraction between them was too hard to ignore. She had always known this, and was more than happy to give herself over to it, but it seemed deeper within her somehow, insatiable almost.

As their mouths clashed together, she was hungry for it—for _him_ —and she wanted more, needed more. She was desperate to touch him, and that desperation made her impatient, anxious to feel his flesh under her hands.

She was like a zealot worshipping her god, giving everything to him, needing to please him in order to please herself. And to do that, she was willing to do anything. Her excitement was almost overwhelming in the power it wielded; her chest heaved as she gasped for air in order to breathe in the scent of him.

He was animal, he was primal, he was strength, he was _everything_.

A cry of triumph left her lips when she was finally able to bury his hardness within her, finally able to claim her prize. His hands skated over her slippery skin, damp from sweat, wet with the heat that was coursing through her.

Having him inside wasn’t enough. Her fingers dug ruthlessly into his shoulders as she rode him, blood slipping from under her nails to slide down his chest. His growl reverberated through her body, shooting straight to her groin, adding to the tight ball of pleasure that was building just above her pelvis.

 _Closer_! He needed to be closer, though he had his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to his chest while she chased her climax. She needed something … something _different_ but she didn’t know what that was.

Leaning down, she licked at the mix of blood and sweat that glistened at the crook of his neck. It was exquisite, so she nipped at his skin, making him growl again. Again, the sound shocked that tight ball of pleasure, causing her to cry out.

She teetered on the brink, somehow not being able to push herself over the edge. If she could somehow get him closer, _deeper_ , she knew it be that one thing she needed to make the leap.

He wasn’t close enough; he wasn’t deep enough. _It wasn’t enough_.

His name came to her lips, but she was unable to articulate it, unable to verbalize anything but snarls and growls while she ground herself down on him. Tilting herself back, her hips thrust harder and harder, but her frustration grew and grew as her orgasm remained out of reach.

Suddenly, he gripped her tightly and roared, his hot seed filling her to the brim, but she wasn’t satisfied.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, I need—”

~*~*~

“—Victor!”

Evra Kitney bolted upright, the thin military-issue blanket wrapped around her knees. Panting, she glanced around to make sure no one had heard her before wiping a hand down her sweat-soaked face.

Her shirt was sodden, the binding she used to hold her breasts down sticky and cold against her skin. Those didn’t bother as much as the wetness between her legs, a surprise orgasm in the middle of the night. Automatically, she checked to make sure her shield was tight around her. Smelling like this would bring Victor sniffing around and that was the last thing she needed.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she tried desperately to calm her heart, which was beating like mad against her rib cage. She took slow, deep breaths, taking in the smells of the things around her: unwashed soldiers perspiring as they slept in the cramped lower deck, the diesel of the engine as it chugged through the deep ocean waters, the salty tang of said ocean as it hung in the air like a spectre.

It nauseated her, bile rising fast and hot in her throat.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to focus on the scents, anything to take her mind from her mate because the mere thought of him made an almost uncontrollable lust curl through her veins, stormy and hard, leaving her breathless all over again.

Evra was grateful they’d been assigned to different bunks, Victor’s area one level below. He’d been pissed about it, but she told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted the space and had remained firm, even when he’d cornered her once they were alone and kissed the hell out of her. It was enough to curl her toes, but she knew he was only marking her with his scent.

The first week had been fine. She and Victor spent plenty of time together during the day doing what soldiers needed to do on a ship. They spent free-time playing cards or shooting the shit with others. They spent time on deck, watching the waves and the sea birds chase each other through the sky. At night, they parted and that was that.

The second week at sea, things started going to hell.

When she first went through puberty, the other thing that happened to her—the feralness—made her senses go crazy. Smells, sights, sounds, all of it became too much for her to process and would send her shrieking to hide under the bed. Her then-husband understood it less, thinking she was possessed and would beat her while screaming the word of the Lord.

She’d learned to filter through the scents and sounds and visions and Victor had helped her even more, showing her how to control her senses so that she could focus on particular smells or use her eyes to see in almost complete darkness. But now, she was finding it difficult to centre herself. The constant odours of piss and shit and sweat and good ol’ lust was too strong for her to ignore. She was acutely aware of being the only woman aboard the ship and that men were bloody well _everywhere_ , crowding her, talking to her, standing too close to her, touching her.

Evra hadn’t thought that being on a ship full of men as going to be difficult. The stories Victor had shared with her had been exciting, had painted a world that was teeming with violence that was ready for her to throw herself at, ready for her anger and her claws and her desperate need to see something outside of her small existence. Spending three weeks on a ship filled to the brim with men had barely crossed her mind. She had been eager to go, but now that thrill was wearing thin. There were so many things that she had never considered.

Her showers had to be brief and cold, taken in the night when most of the men were asleep. She didn’t dare reveal her undershirt in public lest someone spot the bindings under the fabric. Trying to take a piss was a whole new level of subterfuge, laughing at the guys who took a leak over the ship’s railings, but never joining in the fun.

And Victor …

Goddamn.

Sneaking stolen moments with him was almost impossible. A stolen kiss here or there was all they could manage.

Her temper began to fray and it came to a head yesterday, when she got into a scrap with another soldier during calisthenics. He’d been too close, stepping on the backs of her boots, his breath too hot on the back of her neck. The man went down easy, and she knew she should’ve stopped, but it just felt _so good_ to get out some of that aggression, to feel blood against her knuckles.

It also helped that Victor was there, as she reduced the soldier to a bloody heap, watching as she asserted her power and dominance. She basked in his attention, wanting to do nothing more than to please him so he would rut with her, knock her to the deck and mount her, claim her in front of all these other men so they knew he belonged to her.

Letting out a slow breath, she laid back down, her eyes on the metal ceiling above her. A shiver ran through her at the thought of sliding a hand down the front of her army-issued pants and taking care of herself, but she nixed it.

Fuck, there was no way she could go back to sleep now.

Her bunk vibrated gently as a hand tapped against the ledge. “You okay, Kit?” came the low, mumbled voice of Adam Nesbitt, his Scottish brogue thick with sleep. “Sea sick?”

“Nah,” she replied softly. “Jus’ a bad dream.”

He muttered what she thought was a sound of assurance, but he fell back to sleep before she could thank him for his concern. She chuckled and rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position on the thin mattress.

 _Victor_.

His image came so suddenly to her mind that it startled her and before she could stop herself, that hot rush of primal hunger setting fire to her blood, that she groaned through clenched teeth. Nesbitt let out a snort, so she clamped her hand over her mouth and stayed perfectly still until his gentle snores filled the air again.

She wondered what Victor was doing.

* * *

**Victor**

The ship rocked underneath him, the small metal bunk digging into his back. With a small growl, Victor jabbed his fingers into his thighs, mindful of his claws. He’d ruined at least one pair of trousers by letting those fuckers release right into his flesh.

It was all Evra’s fault, of course.

Like some sort of fucking fool, he’d agreed to let her “pave her own way” or whatever the fuck that meant, so he was basically relegated to standing around and watching his mate befriend every piece of shit on this tub that had a dick between their legs.

All she wanted was for him to trust her and sure, maybe she was right when she claimed that he hovered too much, but she’d never been trapped on a floating tin can packed with wall-to-wall men. She’d never been to war before, never knee deep in the shit with soldiers who were fighting for their lives.

Stick a whole bunch of men on a boat for a few weeks, giving them enough time to think about the certain death they were heading to, and those sons-of-bitches got _horny_. Even if they did survive a few weeks out in the mud, it wasn’t as if that urge went away. Men needed to fuck, and they would fuck whatever was available given half a chance.

Honestly, it wasn’t Evra that he didn’t trust. The thought of some other man laying his hands on her, touching her, making her smile, made his claws itch and his breath hitch in his chest. He didn’t like that _at all_. 

Victor knew he had to watch his temper, but not being able to be close to his mate was causing him to lose the tenuous grasp he had on it. Something about her soothed him, made him feel content in ways he’d never been before.

Was she making someone else on the ship feel like that?

He thought back to yesterday, when Evra leapt on that unsuspecting soldier and smeared him into paste. She claimed the guy was stepping on the backs of her boots, but there was no way he’d been close enough. It wasn’t as if Victor didn’t approve—seeing blood splash on her knuckles had taken his goddamn breath away—but she’d been acting more aggressive than usual lately. Her skin had to be as itchy as his was. She had to be craving him as badly as he was craving her.

He was worried … and that scared him.

He’d never _cared_ for anyone before, not like he cared for Evra. He wanted to know what was going on behind those damnable green eyes, but she wasn’t saying anything. He figured he’d just have to ride it out

Grunting, he rolled onto his side and punched the small, flat pillow a few times before settling back down. He closed his eyes and wondered what Evra was doing.

* * *

**Mickey Dillon**

Mickey yawned as he shuffled towards the galley and rubbed sleepily at one eye. It was too early; most of the other soldiers were still asleep in their bunks or sprawled on the floor. The sun hadn’t even yet kissed the horizon, yet here he was, reporting for kitchen duty because he didn’t know when to keep his damn mouth shut.

To his surprise, two other soldiers were waiting at the entrance to the galley, one short with copper coloured hair and the other possibly the tallest blond man Mickey had ever seen in his life. The big one was arguing with the kitchen steward.

“You’re not on the list.” The superior officer flipped around his clipboard to show the blond. “If you’re not on the list, you’re not on kitchen duty.”

The man with the copper hair shook his head. “Let it go, Victor,” he murmured.

“I ain’t,” said the tall one adamantly. He pointed at the small man. “Where he goes, I go.”

The steward took a step forward and poked his finger into the blonde’s impressive chest. “I don’t give a good goddamn,” he said angrily. “Report back to your bunk, private.”

Victor straightened, looming over the other officer. “Get your finger outta my face,” he growled.

“Or what?” The steward poked the blonde’s chest again, a smug look on his face. “I’ll throw you in the brig faster than—”

There was a loud _snap_ and the man let out a short, sharp scream and dropped to the floor, clutching his hand. Victor whipped his head around and glared at Mickey.

“We got a problem?” he asked in a low, menacing voice.

Mickey, being the type of guy who liked not being beaten to within an inch of his life, shook his head slowly. The blond gave a curt nod just as someone came running out from the kitchen. Accusations were made and Victor ended up getting his way: five days on kitchen duty.

A few hours later, when the three men were knee deep in orange and brown peels, Mickey stopped his paring knife and looked up at the big man. “You know,” he said, “you could’ve said the officer who wrote you up forgot to add you to the list.”

“Huh.” A slow smiled curled on Victor’s face and he elbowed the smaller man, Evan Kitney, in the upper arm and said, “Why didn’t you think of that?”

“Fuck off,” Kitney snarled.

“Don’t tell _me_ to fuck off,” Victor snapped, aiming a punch at the smaller man’s shoulder that should have knocked him off his seat, but surprisingly didn’t. “ _You_ fuck off!”

Sighing, Mickey returned to his potatoes. This was going to be a fun five days.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief glimpse into the future for Victor and Evra that foreshadows what's to come in Nautical Disaster.

** PRELIMINARY WEAPON X INTAKE INTERVIEW **

**From the files of the Canadian National Security Board (CNSB)**

**SUBJECT: CREED, VICTOR**

**Interview #10 - Transcript**

[A few off-white frames flicker, showing the edges. Suddenly, colour appears, the frames jerking while an unknown voice is heard at low speed. The words are unintelligible.]

 **INTERIOR:** _a dark room, florescent lights glare from above, illuminating the_ **SUBJECT** , _Victor Creed. He leans back on a metal chair, boots propped up on the table in front of him. He is dressed in a pair of denim jeans which are tucked into battered leather work boots. He wears a black shirt under a fringed brown suede jacket. His long blond hair has been tied in a tail at the nape of his neck. He pulls a silver cigarette case from an inside pocket and shakes it._

 **Creed** : Mind if I smoke? _[a disposable aluminum ashtray is tossed on the table by an unseen hand]_ Huh. Thought you scientist types would be all up in arms about the Surgeon General’s warning. _[he lights a cigarette, takes a long draw]_ Cancer causin’ an’ all that.

 **(Identity Protected) – Male** : Cancer isn’t something you have to worry about, is it, Mr. Creed?

 **Creed** : _[amused shrug]_ Guess not. _[takes another deep draw of the cigarette]_ Ain’t like I haven’t tried. _[laughs]_ So, what’d you nerds want to talk about today? How I almost had the jump on Mussolini? What about the time I—

 **(Identity Protected) – Female** : We’d like to discuss your relationship with a Ms. Evra Kitney. 

_[_ **SUBJECT** _is silent, flicks ash on to the floor. He uncrosses his legs and crosses his arms over his chest]_

 **Creed** : _[gruffly]_ Evra an’ I don’t have a relationship.

 **Female** : But you did. In the past.

 **Creed** : _[sullenly]_ Yeah, I suppose so.

 **Male** : She also had a relationship with James Howlett, correct?

 _[_ **SUBJECT** _throws cigarette to floor, crushing it beneath the heel of boot angrily]_

 **Creed** : I guess.

 **Female** : Tell us about it.

 **Creed** : _[angrily]_ Sure. Me an’ Evra was together for a while. Then she an’ Logan were fuckin’ for a while. Now nobody’s fuckin’ anybody. Can we talk about somethin’ else?

 **Male** : Ms. Kitney is a sore spot for you.

 **Creed** : _[growls]_ Said I don’t wanna talk about this.

 **Male** : You agreed to discuss all aspects of your life, Mr. Creed, when you signed up for the program. We need to ferret out your strengths and weaknesses. It’s imperative.

 **Creed** : Evra ain’t a weakness.

_[A shuffle of papers offscreen]_

**Female** : Tell us how you and Ms. Kitney met.

 **Creed** : _[pulls out cigarette, lights it]_ I ain’t gonna tell you shit about her.

 _[A yellowed piece of paper encased in plastic is tossed on desk in front of_ **SUBJECT**. _He glances_ _at it, then up at_ **IDENTITY PROTECTED** _]_

 **Creed** : Get me a cup of coffee.

 **Male** : Will you talk?

 **Creed** : _[shrugs]_ Depends on how good the coffee is.

 _[A few minutes pass in silence,_ **SUBJECT** _lighting another cigarette, as_ **IDENTITY PROTECTED** _murmur behind the camera. Their words are unintelligible]_

 _[A blurred figure enters the room from the door behind and to the left of_ **SUBJECT**. _A steaming cup of coffee is placed in front of_ **SUBJECT**. _Blurred figure leaves._ **_SUBJECT_** _takes a sip]_

 **Creed** : Yeah, this is okay.

 **Male** : Tell us about that disciplinary report. _[a masculine hand taps the plastic-encased paper on table]_

 **Creed** : _[picks it up, studies it closely. Chuckles]_ Yeah, Ev an’ I got busted for kissin’.

 **Female** : That seems unusual.

 **Creed** : We were on a troopship, headed towards World War One. Evra was disguised like a man. Seein’ two guys kissin’ was pretty heavy back in those days. Corporal punishment an’ all that. Not like it woulda made a lick o’ difference to us. _[chuckles]_

 **Male** : So, you risked being caught and possibly court marshalled just to sneak a kiss from Ms. Kitney?

 **Creed** : _[smirks]_ You don’t _just_ kiss Evra. It’s an experience. Besides, she’s _[mumbles something unintelligible]_

 **Female** : Could you please repeat that last sentence, Mr. Creed?

 **Creed** : Fuck. _[loudly]_ I said she’s my mate. _[shifts uncomfortably_ ] I mean, she _was_ my mate.

 **Female** : What is she to you now?

 **Creed** : _[shrugs]_ We ain’t nothin’ now. She stays away from me. It’s not like back then.

 **Male** : But during the war, she was important to you at the time.

 **Creed** : Suppose so.

 **Female** : You felt the need to protect her.

Creed: I guess.

 **Female** : Do you still feel that need?

 _[_ **SUBJECT** _takes a sip of coffee, ignores the question]_

 **Male** : Where you the one who killed the soldier who reported you? In order to protect her?

 **Creed** : _[snorts]_ Naw. That wasn’t me.

 **Female** : Was it Ms. Kitney?

 _[_ **SUBJECT** _takes a long drink of coffee, then a drag from the cigarette. His eyes flit between the faces of_ **IDENTITY PROTECTED** _]_

 **Creed** : Told you I wasn’t gonna say shit about her.

 **Male** : Okay. Tell us how you managed to turn a possible court marshal into just a disciplinary report.

 **Creed** : _[grins]_ Told the captain to look inside my file. I was there ‘cause the government _wanted_ me there. Never forget the look on the ol’ fogey’s face when he saw what was inside. _[extends the claws of his right hand]_ Told him that Ev was the same as me. If he wanted to mess with the higher ups ‘cause he was uncomfortable two soldiers were caught lockin’ lips, that was up to him.

 _[_ **SUBJECT** _retracts claws, flicks cigarette on the floor to extinguish with boot. Drains coffee cup. He takes out another cigarette.]_

 **Female** : That’s a nice cigarette case. Looks old.

 **Creed** : _[blowing smoke out as he laughs]_ Nice eye, sweetheart.

 **Female** : Can I have a closer look at it?

 **Creed** : _[picks up case, holds it up to the light. A female hand enters the frame briefly before_ **SUBJECT** _flips it down in to his palm and tucks it away]_ Nope.

 **Male** : Did Evra give it to you?

 **Creed** : Already told you I ain’t saying shit about her. _[_ **SUBJECT** _leans forward]_ Why you wanna know so much, anyway?

 **Male** : It’s possible we’re interested in bringing her in to the program. She has a skill set that could be useful to us.

 **Creed** : _[delighted]_ You don’t say. Ain’t that a fuckin’ treat? _[_ **SUBJECT** _grins, places his feet up on the table, tilts his chair back, and crosses his arms behind his head_ ] You wanna know ‘bout Evra? Let me start at the beginning—

_[The film stutters and stops]_

**~ END ~**

**Author's Note:**

> Nautical Disaster - written & sung by The Tragically Hip, from the album Day for Night, released 1995. Label: MCA; produced by Mark Howard


End file.
